


Comfortable Awakening

by Juli



Category: White Collar
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-14
Updated: 2011-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-27 07:56:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/293442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juli/pseuds/Juli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal Caffrey woke feeling happy and warm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfortable Awakening

Neal Caffrey woke feeling happy and warm. As he lay in the blissful state between sleep and true awareness, he vaguely realized that he also felt secure. Safe, even. For someone who’d been on the run from the law for most of his adult life, it was a welcome change.

Sighing in contentment, he snuggled deeper into the softness surrounding him. As he did, Neal breathed in an equally soft scent, one that was familiar on a deep, instinctive level. That scent was also one that he associated with warmth; it was the perfume that Elizabeth Burke wore.

Elizabeth?

Neal’s eyes opened, but slowly. He’d meant them to pop open, but for some reason his body was sluggish and not at all inclined to obey him. When he finally could see, Neal realized that Elizabeth’s face was close to his own and she was looking at him with a fond smile.

“Hey, there, sleepyhead,” Elizabeth’s voice wasn’t quite a whisper, but wasn’t a regular speaking tone either. “How are you feeling?”

“F-feeling?” Neal stuttered; his mouth was oddly dry.

“You had us worried.”

Neal could only watch as one of Elizabeth’s hands reached over and brushed an errant lock of hair off of his face. She went on to press the back of her fingers against first his forehead and then his cheek. It took Neal longer than it probably should have for him to realize that she was checking him for fever.

Elizabeth propped herself up on her arm and Neal belatedly realized that she’d been lying horizontally. That meant he was too and, in fact, it occurred to him that some of the softness surrounding him was a pillow and blankets. Even his unusually slow mind put two and two together; they were both in a bed.

Together.

Neal tried to get his body to move, knowing it was imperative that he get out of the compromising position he’d found himself in. Unfortunately, his body not only was sluggish, but something seemed to be interfering. Neal began to struggle.

“Neal, what’s the matter?” Elizabeth frowned at him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Peter’s going. . . going to kill me,” Neal panted. Something was wrapped around his waist, preventing him from moving.

Elizabeth reached up and tapped his nose. “Guess again, Neal. Who do you think is holding you?”

Neal blinked at her. There was a soft rumble from behind him and, with a surreal feeling, Neal looked down at what was holding him at the waist. It was an arm. A male arm, in fact. While Neal tried to process that information, the arm shifted, taking him with it. Before he knew it, Neal was flat on his back, with a Burke on either side of him.

“Peter?” Neal’s voice broke, something that hadn’t happened since he was a teenager. He was too confused to be embarrassed.

“I’ll admit that having you in our bed just yet wasn’t my idea,” Peter was as relaxed as Neal had ever seen him. “But now that you’re here, I can’t fathom why I waited so long.”

Neal looked slowly from one Burke to another. Both seemed content, if a little tired. On neither face did he find a hint of what was going on.

“I’m dreaming,” Neal stated. It was the only reasonable explanation for the situation he found himself in.

“No, honey, not anymore,” Elizabeth started carding her fingers through Neal’s hair. “But you were earlier. You were delirious.”

Neal licked dry lips. “I was?”

“Yes and if you ever forget to tell me that you’re sick again, there will be consequences,” Peter’s voice was tense. At first Neal thought that the FBI agent was angry at him, but the more he looked at Peter’s face, the more he realized that the other man was frightened. Not of Neal, but for Neal.

“I’m sorry?” Neal offered, not entirely sure of what he was sorry for.

“Honey, leave him alone,” Elizabeth’s firm tone was directed at Peter. “You can wait to lecture him until he feels better.”

Her words sparked some vague memories. Neal remembered being on a stakeout with Peter and that, for once, he could not convince the FBI agent that they could observe from a nice, warm coffee shop instead of a cold car. He clearly remembered getting chilled, but not saying anything because he didn’t want to be told again to ‘cowboy up.’

To his dismay, Neal didn’t really have any recollections of leaving the car. He had vague memories of Peter’s voice, sharp and worried, as well as an endless climb up a mountain of stairs. Everything else was even more vague, just impressions of heat and fear, of chases that went no where and monsters under the bed.

“I was sick?” Neal asked, turning to Elizabeth for confirmation. When she nodded, he frowned. “Why am I here?”

“Peter brought you home instead of taking you to June’s,” Elizabeth explained. From the look she shot her husband, it was good for Peter that he’d made that decision.

“No,” Neal shook his head, wincing as he realized that he had a headache, but still managing to pat the mattress. “Why am I here?”

Elizabeth giggled. “You want to tell him, honey?”

Neal forced himself to look at Peter, but instead of seeing condemnation there, the FBI agent looked amused.

“You spiked a high fever really quickly,” Peter explained. “And so El and I took turns watching you. Just when we were going to haul you to the hospital, your fever broke. We left you alone for just a minute-. . . .”

“The sheets were soaked,” Elizabeth interrupted quickly, as though she needed to justify to Neal why he’d been alone. “I went to get clean ones while Peter went to find you some of his pajamas to wear.”

“And when we got back to the guest bedroom, you were gone,” Peter took up the narration. “We found you in the middle of our bed.”

Neal was often described as shameless, but felt his face flush as he looked away. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” Peter’s voice was firm, but gentle, as were his fingers as they held Neal’s chin and forced him to meet Peter’s gaze. “Even half-dead, you knew where you belonged.”

To Neal’s shock, Peter leaned in slowly and gave him a kiss on the lips. It was relatively chaste, but held the promise of much more. When Peter pulled back, he smiled at Neal and brushed his cheek with his thumb. “Welcome home.”

Neal’s eyes really did pop at that statement. He turned to look at Elizabeth, afraid to find out what she felt about her husband kissing him, but at the same time wild with hope.

“Now that you’re here, we’re not letting you go, either,” Elizabeth was smug and the kiss she planted on Neal was a little more forceful than Peter’s had been. “So don’t even think of trying to run, mister.”

“I won’t,” Neal promised.

Why would he want to?

It was all a little much to take in and Neal yawned hugely. Elizabeth made a small tsk of dismay and kissed him on the forehead. “You need to rest some more. We’ll talk about this again when you wake up.”

Neal reached for her hand. “Promise?”

Peter answered. “We promise.” He carded his hand through Neal’s hair. “Now sleep.”

Even when it was good for him, it was hard for Neal to obey an order without some sort of mischief. He looked at Peter with pleading eyes. “I’m still cold.”

He didn’t need to ask. Peter simply wrapped his arm under Neal and shifted him again. Neal was soon on his side, with Peter spooned up behind him, an arm around his waist to anchor him securely. Elizabeth settled across from him and Neal looked at her with half-lidded eyes, a smug smile tugging at his lips. If he could have purred, he would have. Elizabeth’s answering smile warmed the room.

“That’s the Neal we love,” she claimed as she first kissed him and then Peter.

“Shameless,” Peter stated, but tightened his hold on Neal as he did.

“Ours,” Elizabeth replied.

Neal drifted off to sleep with Elizabeth’s giggles as a most welcome lullaby.

 

~the end~


End file.
